That night, the howling north wind, as punctual as a clockwork employee reporting for its daily shift, commenced its timely duties soon after dusk descended.
Under its relentless breath, the temperature upon the great wasteland plummeted. Before the clock struck nine, the outdoor chill in Tianshuigouzi City had already dipped below freezing. Conditions indoors were scarcely better, for the drafty shacks offered little more than nominal refuge from the cold.
Then, as the mercury fell, delicate snowflakes began to spiral from the sky, initiating yet another light snowfall.
Two consecutive nights of snow extinguished the final flicker of hope in Mi Gao's heart. The truth was undeniable: the wasteland world stood on the brink of a monumental shift. To avoid being utterly devoured—flesh and bone—by the coming tide of change, he would have to stake everything on a daring venture.
The sole consolation was that beginning preparations now was not, perhaps, too late.
Simultaneously, Mi Gao knew the moment had arrived. It was time to impart his thoughts, and his vision for the future, to his gathered confidants. To this end, he decided to convene an expanded meeting of mid and high-level personnel, ensuring they understood what loomed ahead and what would be required of them.
Thus, ten minutes after the first snowflake landed, a sharp burst of static abruptly crackled from speakers mounted throughout the city. Shortly after, the familiar voice of Laura, the feline announcer from the communications room, issued a coquettish, almost petulant notice:
"Attention, please! All attention!
Upon hearing this broadcast, Zhang Tiezhu, Old Gimpy, Onier, John, Molly… and other designated persons are to report immediately to Lord Harry Potter's office for an urgent convocation."
The city's inhabitants, upon hearing the broadcast, frowned deeply. The notice had listed over twenty names, encompassing not only top figures like Old Gimpy but also mid-level leaders such as squad captains. Recalling their lord's unusual demeanor earlier in the day, they sensed their lives were poised on the cusp of a great transformation—though whether for good or ill remained uncertain.
The summoned individuals, who had already retreated to their beds in the lonely night, now had no choice but to don their clothes once more and converge upon Mi Gao's office. The spacious room became instantly cramped with the influx of over twenty people.
After ushering everyone to find seating and ensuring each held a cup of steaming sugared water to ward off the nocturnal chill, Mi Gao even ordered a wood-fired stove lit in the center of the room. Warmth soon suffused the space, setting the scene for what would become a historically significant fireside discourse in the annals of Tianshuigouzi.
At Mi Gao's prompting, Old Gimpy once more recounted the ominous portents following the snow, holding nothing back—the impending cataclysm for their world and the severe trials awaiting their city.
Initially, the simple pleasure of hot sugared water on a bitter night had brought faint smiles to the attendees' faces. However, as Old Gimpy's narrative unfolded, even the usually prized drink turned tasteless on their tongues. A cold dread for the future seeped into their bones, undiminished by the warm liquid they swallowed. All present knew that in the face of such upheaval, they were but insects—perhaps slightly sturdier ones, yet insects nonetheless.
It must be said that John, the Minotaur responsible for armed forces, possessed clearer insight than most. After a prolonged silence, he voiced words that immediately kindled a spark in the others' eyes: "My Lord, we shall follow your lead. Command us as you will. Surely you have a plan."
A chorus of agreement filled the office. Mi Gao responded with a wry smile, uncertain whether such unwavering, unthinking loyalty was ultimately a blessing or a curse. Yet, pressed for time and eager to return to the modern realm to make preparations, he had little leisure to gently guide their discussions or encourage independent thought.
Clearing his throat emphatically, Mi Gao laid out the rough framework of a plan formulated over the course of the afternoon:
**First,** effective tomorrow, Tianshuigouzi City would commence large-scale recruitment. Criteria would be relaxed: regardless of gender or age, and lifting the previous requirement of having a family. Anyone willing to abide by the city's rules could find work here, barring only the truly vicious or those bearing severe infection or mutation.
Mi Gao's reasoning was thus: rather than allowing these desperate souls to be organized into a collective threat later, it was better to incorporate them early, mold them, and turn them into a strength.
**Second,** in recognition of the original residents' contributions, a distinction in treatment would be established for new recruits. Current members would retain their existing food rations and benefits.
Newcomers, however, would receive only 70% of the standard food allocation under normal circumstances. They would be housed outside the city walls, requiring permission to enter and facing restrictions from key areas. These included the primitive oil refinery, the three-story building serving as Lord Harry Potter's residence, hospital, core storage, communications room, and warehouse.
This tiered system was crucial, Mi Gao believed. It was not merely to acknowledge the original members' efforts and morale. History offered countless examples that clear social strata and defined avenues for advancement were necessary to motivate those at the bottom to strive harder.
Moreover, 70% of the current standard would still stave off hunger. This measure would also conserve significant food supplies, alleviating the immense pressure on Mi Gao's logistics in the coming period.
Housing newcomers outside the walls and restricting their access also addressed safety and spatial concerns. The city, currently a sea of shacks and tents, had alarmingly low capacity. Furthermore, among a sudden influx of scavengers, it was impossible to guarantee that no malicious elements had slipped in.
**Third,** the guard force would continue to expand. Using the original guard as a backbone, suitable individuals would be conscripted from among the scavengers to increase both numbers and strength. The preliminary goal was a force of six to eight hundred. In a world on the verge of chaos, greater strength was paramount.
**Fourth,** at least half of the new scavengers would be assigned to coal mining. The more coal extracted, the better; any surplus could be stockpiled inside and outside the city. In the face of a long winter, one could never have too great a reserve...
After outlining these initial arrangements, the office lapsed into another prolonged silence. The attendees were stunned by the sheer scale of their lord's ambition.
With the harsh winter looming, who could predict how many souls, desperate to survive, would clamor to join? News might draw people from hundreds of kilometers around—a number that made them tremble to contemplate: eight thousand, ten thousand, perhaps even more.
After a long while, Old Gimpy voiced his concern: "My Lord, should we not impose a quota or a geographical limit on recruitment? The strain on provisions would otherwise be tremendous."
"Let them all come. We will take every one. I will handle the provisions," Mi Gao declared through clenched teeth, making a painfully difficult decision.
He was acutely aware that each additional person was a heavy burden. Even at 70% rations, a wasteland dweller required roughly 0.75 kilograms of staple food per day. With ten thousand people, that meant nearly 7.5 tons of sustenance daily.
He harbored no doubt that such numbers might indeed seek refuge here. But he knew with even greater certainty that after surviving this long winter, human resources—now as cheap and scattered as wild dogs—would become the most desperately sought commodity for all factions. To ensure rapid development come spring, Mi Gao resolved to endure, no matter the cost.
Thus, having conveyed his will, Mi Gao prepared to return once more to the modern realm. This trip had yielded little of material value; aside from a small quantity of medicinal liquor for his personal consumption, he would be returning almost empty-handed.